Does this look like a hospital bracelet? Why YES! Yes it is, and see that’s my keyboard. I’m actually at work. I ESCAPED, Mwahahahahah!
Well, truth of it is, I was at the hospital this morning bright and early (730am). I got to register, and find out how much my Christmas present to myself was going to be. It is way, way, way too much. Basically, I get a diagnosis, and a treatment. Which in the end will make me feel better, right? You can’t beat a present like that. A radiology test. I’m just too good to myself. Thanks self!
Allow me to explain, a week ago when I found out about my dad. I had an appointment at the endocrinologist where I found out I have hyperthyroidism. See my foodie-ism has a name after all. Along with my hot flashes, rashes, moods swings, appetite and heart pounding stress. It was not just my age (aka getting old). It was actually a thyroid going berserk (phew!).
The Doctor scheduled a radioactive iodine image test to determine which thyroid ailment I have. Apparently, the dye goes through the thyroid and leaves it’s tell-tale signature (so I hope). They read it, then the doc can treat it. But first, I have to SWALLOW radioactive iodine (ahhhh!).
Yeah. That’s a little scary. The instructions were no food or drink after midnight (I had a TINY sip of water at 1205am-Sorry!). They did NOT say no Mexican food, nor one lil ol’ margarita for dinner (gee, I hope I don’t mess this up). Then, come in at o dark thirty (NO COFFEE) to the hospital. So I do so, begrudgedly.
And I get pulled over by the hospital police. Yeppers, I did. I am very sorry officer. I was just looking for where to park and didn’t really notice the people trying to cross at the crosswalk. I mean, obviously, I stopped at the stop sign cross walks, but not the other four in between (that’s a lot of cross walks). Ooops. Thank you for taking pity on me. It was very sweet of you to think I was a new hire.
I get inside and fill out a mountain of paperwork. This is the same hospital I had my daughter in. They still had my records (15yrs ago!). Then, they send me to the basement (never a good thing), where they take me to a room (padded cell). They ask me a zillion times if I’m pregnant or could be pregnant.
I answered a ZILLION times, NO, not possible. I have no fallopian tubes. But I am glad they are thorough. Can you imagine if that happened to someone? (shudder) The nurse explains everything about the procedure. Then, she asked the other zillion dollar question. Have I had ANY fish or shellfish in the last seven days. I have not, and I really missed my Sushi night (pout).
The nurse gingerly holds a tube (lead encased-I’m sure) with gloves on. She ever so lightly taps a pill into a medicine cup. I am having the hardest time not squirming away. The pill was ORANGE (aahhhh!). She tells me to throw it back in my throat and swallow. DO NOT TOUCH THE PILL (whimper). Like a Champ, I toss that sucker back, and OH YES IT DID GET STUCK, right on the back of my tongue. I take a drink, STILL STUCK, then it moves to the roof of my mouth, and FINALLY down the hatch.
Crap! How is it supposed to go down your throat when your mouth is like sandpaper after no food or drink? I just radioactivated my brain and my teeth. Wonderful. The second pill went down much easier, thank goodness.
Then I waited to start glowing or something. Seriously, my vision is a little hazy (that could be the 4 hours sleep). For today and tonight, I am not allowed any dairy products, fish, nor can foods. I am supposed to eat “fresh”. For me, that’s worse than eating nuclear pills. A veggie fresh diet? Well, maybe it will start something good. I go back tomorrow and they will do images of my neck. Weee!
As for blogging, I am trying to get back in the swing of things, after a week away. Sydney leaves for Mississippi on December 19 until January 4. Our Christmas with Jason, the girls, and Kyle is December 18. FOUR days! I have four days to shop and that’s all. We know what gifts we are getting her. It’s just getting it. Yeah, that.
It’s also Jason’s birthday month. He is a New Year’s Eve baby. Isn’t that the sweetest? I decided to gift him a present every day for his birthday month. They are not big presents, but I attach a little note to each one, to let him know how special he is. It’s not easy to have a gift EVERY day. I really am putting thought into them (well…some are thoughts of HIM sharing, HEH). His birthday is so close to Christmas that I concluded- what better way to make it special and unique – at least I’m trying to. I think I have up to day #18 packaged. I have another weeks worth ready to be wrapped. It has been soooo fun. I have loved doing this.
I have some wonderful blog posts in the drafts that I haven’t had time to write. Another timeless one, a bloggy bling parade, and a gift of Christmas that will touch your heart. As well as, a few pictures from our outing to Bethlehem Revisited on Saturday night with the kids. As soon as all the hospital visits, shopping, and gifting slow down, I will happily get them done.
In the meantime, don’t turn down your screen. It’s just me pulsating with my radioactive self.
Have no doubt, I will miss my Dad greatly. But I am not one to curl up in a ball until the hurt goes away. One thing my Dad’s life taught me is that, whatever storm you face, you have to keep going. He wouldn’t want me to stop living. He wouldn’t want me to stop laughing. He certainly wouldn’t want me to stop loving.
That said, will you join me? Would you climb aboard the Jeep Express? I promise you won’t regret it. It is a new tradition born out of an idea from Shell in your Pocket’s mini van express ride. I read her entry several months before Christmas and fell in love with it. I’m giving her all the credit because I couldn’t possibly think of something so creative.
I must saying starting a tradition requires a lot more effort than following one. First, you have to set the scene, have the props, then follow through with it all. Not easy to do with a three and five year old, who doesn’t quite get it, although I think next year they will catch on much quicker. This year, it took them a bit to warm up.
I set the scene by telling Molly the story of the Jeep Express. I said, “Sometimes during Christmas when the kids get their jammies on, and head to bed, they discover under their pillow a ticket to ride the Jeep Express. The Jeep Express has popcorn, candy, and drinks. It goes to see the Christmas lights.”
Molly decided she didn’t want to do that. She thought the Jeep Express would take her someplace scary. I had to convince her that Daddy drives the Jeep Express and he wouldn’t take her someplace scary, right? Then, she said didn’t want to go look at Christmas lights this year. WHAT???
Don’t worry I didn’t panic, I just went to look under Daddy’s pillow for a magical ticket. Lo and behold there WAS a ticket! It read Praire Lights one admission tonight only on the Jeep Express! (not that they can read….)
Now that pretty much did it, we began the great hunt for Jeep Express tickets. We found tickets under both of their pillows. We began jumping around the room, holding our tickets above our heads, dancing, and waving them around. YEAH! Tonight we ride the JEEP EXPRESS!! TOOT! TOOT! (good thing Dad drives a Jeep, wink)
The conductor (Daddy) took the tickets at the door. Inside the express they went, with their goody bags of candy, Christmas necklaces that blink, and warm fuzzy blankets.
The Jeep Express had to make one stop on the way. It was to pick up Sydney and Kyle, question was, did they have a ticket to ride?
Why yes! Yes, they did! Upside down and all. Off we go on the Jeep Express, which is not to someplace scary, but a place of festive wonder. A display of FOUR million lights, along two miles next to the lake. A place to transform Daddy’s Jeep into a junk food smorgasbord. You can eat, drink, and be merry. It was incredible. We had popcorn, candy, and soda. There were many exclamations, “Look at that!” “Wow!” It seemed like the more you looked, the more you saw something else in all the glow.
I think this new tradition will stick. As much as I miss my Dad, I can’t miss these opportunities to begin anew. Dad never remarried, maybe he was scared to, or maybe he never had the chance. I know had it happened, he would have been greatly rewarded. So Dad, this ones for you. Enjoy the ride.
The finale, which was who knows how many LED lights in a tunnel. Unbelievably, spectacular!
May your traditions burn as bright as you are this Christmas, and always. Thanks for riding the Jeep Express.
Good-bye glad.
Good-bye times we had.
Good-bye jokes and good-bye smokes.
Good-bye sings and weekends like kings.
Good-bye smirks and crazy quirks.
Good-bye Dad.
Good-bye sad.
Good-bye times we had.
Until when…
I see you again.
This post is for all the SITS girls. The Secret is in the Sauce is a comment blog recognition support group. It’s a great way to find new blogs, and meet other bloggers. I urge you to check them out. Wishing you and yours, a very Merry Christmas. Hug your family tight and cherish those precious memories. You never know when they might be gone. Love and miss you Daddy-O, Grandma, and Poppy Carl. Forever in our hearts.
Bridget, Jason’s youngest, hoping to take a new friend home from ICE.
Molly, Jason’s oldest, in front of the Texas Christmas tree. Gaylord Texan in Grapevine, after ICE.
Salem about 7 years ago, but she is still my puppy.
Sydney and Salem, 2002
Salem’s first Christmas, 2002
Molly and Bridget trimming the tree at Dad’s house this year. Notice the placement of the ornaments.
Sydney and Kyle, Christmas 2009.
Molly and Bridget, Christmas 2009 at the Gaylord Texan. I love this pic!
Me and Sydney, Christmas 2007
Me and Sydney, Christmas 2008
Due to technical difficulties (DARN iPHONE wordpress app), I lost most of this post and had to redo it. If the pictures look different that is why.
Our vessel is made up of blood, guts, tissue, and muscle. It breaths, digests, and it moves – all for us to live and function. Sometimes, something happens, like when my step dad got Polio, and his leg stopped working. Or possibly, it’s a disease that takes hold. Cancer eats away, hearts fail, or even the brain betrays inducing a stroke.
Either way, something is working against your body. It could be slowly, or it could be quickly. But despite what happens to your physical body, your soul lives on. It lives on in those you love…..forever.
Friday, December 4 was not just my Grandma’s birthday. It was my Dad’s too. I’m not sure which made who more special? I think they were both special. My friend Ron shares the same birthday, and his favorite character Jethro from Beverly Hillbillies does as well (can you tell he is a big fan?). He is a very funny guy, and Jethro was too. In conclusion, it has to be the birthday.
Grandma was cracking jokes at 90. Her body may have betrayed her with a blood disease that weakened her physically but by God, she could still laugh with all her soul.
Dad laughs with his soul. The things he says in birthday cards. His always humorous comments decorating it, getting me tickled. I don’t know how he comes up with it. It’s a gift. One of Dad’s favorite things to do is watch the local TV station. They had this “garage sale” type show on the weekends. It features table, after table of (usually) damaged products. They would hold each item up, and explain what it was, plug it in to show that it worked, or point out it didn’t. It went something like this (keep in mind this is rural Oklahoma with a very heavy accent), “This here is a fountain, as you can see here, nothing wrong with it, and we plugged it up. It works just fine. Now it’s missing the hose is all. But we are gonna guarontee it.”
Inevitably, one of use would holler out, “Yeah, it’s GUARANTEED NOT to work!”. Then laugh hysterically. You kinda need a hose to get a fountain to work. Just sayin’. Sometimes they would get shocked plugging something in. Sometimes they would fumble stuff and drop it. Going from guaranteed to as is, live on the air. Sometimes what they were selling was so broken, it gave us great guffaws. One of my all time favorite things to do, watch this show with Dad, and (literally) laugh my butt off.
Daddy lived a rock star life. He was a musician when he was only sixteen. A garage band called, The Monuments. It was his cousin, and a few other schoolmates. He played guitar, and sang. They got good enough, and popular enough with a hit single that they were invited to go on tour and open for the Beach Boys. Yeah! You can still find their hit on an old garage band CD. They didn’t end up opening, most of them signed up for the Army. The Vietnam War began cutting many youthful dreams short.
My mom fell for the rocker. She said he had a voice like an Angel. But he had demons too. The alcohol for one. He had an astounding shyness. The alcohol was the only thing that let down his inhibitions (to perform). Then it masked the horror of what he experienced working in the burn hospital during the war. Of course, that led to an almost lifelong battle with alcoholism. The alcoholism led to their demise, and divorce when I was only three.
She remarried to my step dad when I was five, and if you haven’t read my story about this wonderful Father, please do. He was my Father. Dad was my Daddy, my Daddy-O.
I always bragged to all my friends. I have TWO Dads! Yeah, take that. I always found the good in divorce, even as a child. Most weekends we spent with Dad, except when he was deployed to Germany for several years. Most times he lived in town, or at his house a few hours away. He always had interesting things at his place, like pet snakes (hog nose snake). He was fascinated with animals. For as long as I could remember, he signed me up for an animal magazine subscription. Plus, he worked in a toy factory for a while, which was super Dad status to a kid.
Dad just about killed himself drinking. In my teen years, I would do anything not to go see him. It was painful. He didn’t want you to leave. He got whiny, and sad. He was bitter about Mom taking his kids away. It was just easier not to go there, than be subject to that. Of course, I saw him. Not as much as I would have liked had he been sober.
He finally cleaned up about ten years ago. He stopped downing a fifth of Vodka every few days. Then, a few years after that gave up his prized More cigarettes. He smoked three packs a day, so this was HUGE. His ability to put those down after almost fifty something years of smoking, COLD TURKEY, and never smoke again was the fire that fueled ME to quit in 2006. If I had a craving, or wanted to just buy a pack, and have a smoke already. I remembered him and I told myself, if my DAD can do it, then so can I. And I did, Thank you Daddy.
I was very, very proud of him.
When I divorced for a second time, I got to tell my Dad, “Guess what? I have your last name again.” He got quite a chuckle out of that. I did too. My maiden name was always my most favorite, not to mention the easiest. HA.
He had a stroke, and heart problems in recent years. But like always, he snapped back. Giving up his precious Tony’s pizza smothered in mozzarella cheese for awhile. Eating fish, and olive oiled fried chicken. He would almost lose his gut, but then again, he couldn’t quite give up his sugar cookies in a tin.
Dad was born an OU fan. Christmas shopping was easy, anything OU. Being an OU fan gave him life. I surprised him and my brothers by driving to Ada for the OU vs Texas rivalry game. We had a blast. I, also, had to confess to him my boyfriend lived in a house trimmed in orange, with a longhorns curb marking. He was gravely disappointed, as he shook his curly brown head. His only redemption was being a Marine.
I saw my Daddy this Saturday, he had surgery the week before. He had a hernia that perforated part of his bowel and caused a blockage. Now, my Dad has taken a lickin’ and kept on tickin’, too many times to count. He had a ruptured bowel about 20 years ago. They called us to come up, and say our goodbyes. He was laid up in the ICU with a morphine drip on the brink of death. I said my tearful good-bye. They had basically gutted him to clear it all out. His recovery was UNHEARD of, but recover he did. Twenty years ago!
This time wasn’t as traumatic. When I talked to him on his birthday, he sounded very weak. His recovery was slower. He had gone to solid foods, but relapsed. I felt I needed to see him (just in case). He was asking for me. I, of course, did not have time. I had so much to do, errands, chores, and many other things to cram into two days. I went anyway.
His color looked good. He was in a lot of pain, but watching college football which was a good sign. Jason, Sydney, and I brought him an OU blanket, and a little stuffed crazy fan window sucker. It had wild hair and face paint, covered in OU tattoos. He really got a kick out of that. I also got him a Christmas fern. By God, if he was stuck in the hospital during the holiday season, he’d have something merry.
I hugged him, and kissed his cheek. “I love you Daddy-O. I wish I could take your pain away.” In his weak raspy voice he replied back, “I love you, my baby girl.” I had no doubt, he would use his ninth life. Recovering against all odds, like he always did. I was glad to see him, but this was not our final adventure.
But that was not to be, my daddy passed on a little after midnight last night. He had a heart attack and his weak body could not withstand it. He went quickly and mercifully. He no longer suffers. Just sweet peace, for my man Pops.
Daddy-O, I know how much you loved me. I knew in every hug, smile, and laugh. Your spirit and soul will live on in my life, and many others timelessly.
Once upon a time there was a little girl with blond curls, who went to Grandma’s house. Sometimes the trip was a long ride in the car, sometimes a shorter ride in a plane. Either way, along with her brothers and sister, she ended up at Grandma’s. A place filled with love, games, and snow. See, Grandma’s house was in Pueblo, Colorado. Grandma’s house had mountain views.
It was a magical place, smelling of peppermints, and home cooked meals. Decorated with crotchet, lace, and soft cushions. The little girl had her own bedroom that was simple, stylish and right out of her favorite TV show The Brady Bunch. The twin skirted bed featured a foam mattress sheeted, and covered with psychedelic swirls of bright green and yellow. Grandma always turned down the covers for her little body to snuggle beneath, tucked away from the cold Colorado nights.
Grandma’s house had stairs. Oh, the wonderful stairs behind the kitchen, to bounce, and pounce upon. Up and down, again, and again, and again. She never tired of it. They led to a basement of wonder. A delightful place for a curious child, filled with many treasures.
A sewing room featuring pictures of all the family and artwork. Another living room with a sofa sleeper couch for the boys, a TV, and an overflowing bookcase. A bedroom for her sister, and even a bathroom. It had a stand up shower, not a bathtub, which she found very different, but a great place to hide. All the windows peeked out at ground level. How exciting to see feet, and wonder whose they belonged to.
The last room in the basement was the laundry room. The likes of which she had never seen. A concrete floor sloped to a drain. Two wide basin sinks lined the wall, alongside counters. An old fashion contraption sat in the middle of the room with a tub, washboard, and a crank. She loved to crank the clothes through it, even though it was hard, and she needed Grandma’s help.
They would come out stiff, and flat. Then be taken outside to hang on the clothesline to dry. How different from her Mom’s house, where they had square machines that made funny whooshing noises.
At the top of the stairs, she loved to go up, was the backdoor that led to a carpeted covered porch the size of a large room. It was home to a ping-pong table. That’s right. Grandma loved games. Playing ping-pong was a favorite of hers, and everyone else in the neighborhood, but most especially her brothers.
Down the sidewalk to the back of the yard, just past the clothesline, but before the vegetable garden was a little red house with a door. A real playhouse with windows like she had always dreamed of. Chock full of dolls, stuffed animals, and a tiny – just the right size – table for tea, with dishes to match. Oh, the fun she had imagining for hours on end. My sister at the playhouse in Grandma’s backyard.
Grandma’s arms were always open. Her laughter exceptionally sweet, her cheeks always rosy, and her twinkling blue eyes shined merrily. She loved her grandchildren. She loved that they visited her all the way from Oklahoma every year, nary a snowstorm could stop them. The games they would play together – Yahtzee, Monopoly, and cards. She would take them to Church. She would take them on trips. She would tirelessly take them all on – all four of them.
The many memories of Grandma’s include the thrill of summertime camping, in the mountains at a place called, Gopher Creek. Taking the ride puttering up the mountain in Grandma’s RV. Sleeping in the top bunk, snuggled next to other little bodies, crammed in the cove above the cabin, to keep warm from the chilly windows. Traipsing up the tree filled hills chasing squirrels, touching the icy mountain creek water, and roasting marshmallows by a blazing fire. The wonders never ceased to amaze with every outing.
Soon every Christmas was held on Thanksgiving at Grandma’s. Four year old Angie, opening gifts with Grandma’s help.
As the little girl grew older, a trip to Grandma’s house included great mountain adventures in the snow. Skiing. The child endured a queasy stomach ride up the mountain to Monarch for the day. A ski resort at the highest elevation. The mountain always had snow this time of year. It was a wonderful Christmas present Grandma, so graciously, gifted. Not just for the fun of skiing, but for the memories created, and retold.
She bundled herself up with gloves, long johns, thick woolly socks, and a big (new) winter coat. She took the gusty ride on the ski lift, dangling her legs wearing big chunky ski boots, and long skis locked on. Gleefully flying down the mountain in the pure white, taking bitter cold tumbles, then breaks in the lodge to warm up.
After a long day on the mountain, they made the trek back. Spent, sore, with a red chapped face, the drive took hours to navigate the curvy mountain roads. As they arrived in Grandma’s driveway, she glimpsed through the car window at the warm glow of the kitchen window. Grandma had a hot meal, a hot chocolate, and a heartwarming welcome waiting for them. It was heaven.
When the young girl turned sixteen, she began ticking on her fingers whose Dad was whose. Her mother was twice divorced, and remarried to her Step Dad. Her Mother’s Mother was Grandma Dorothy who died before she was born. Mom’s first husband fathered her older sister, and brother. Mom’s second husband, her Dad, fathered her, and her brother Lonnie. Her Dad’s mother was Granny in Oklahoma. Her oldest brother Jay, and her older sister Deedy’s Dad was Davey, and he lived in Colorado. His Mother was Grandma Owens – who lived here. Her Grandma.
But wait a second…..after all those years, she realized – the bloodline did not cross. Her Grandma was not her Grandma by blood. She was not even related to her. How could this be?
She asked her mother when she got home, and her mother told her this story.
“When I was married to your Dad, and your brother was little, he did not understand. He heard his brother and sister calling her Grandma. He wanted to know who she was to him. He went to her with his big brown eyes and looked up at her. He said, ‘You my Ganmaw too? You my Ganmaw too?’ Grandma looked down at that little boy all of eighteen months old and her heart melted. She picked him up in her arms and said, ‘Yes, I your Ganmaw too.’ That is how she came to be your Grandmother, not by birth, but by love.”
Dear Grandma Owens,
You were the Grandma I was raised to love, and know. You cherished me like your own. You never withheld your affections, or your gift of them. The door to your heart opened wide for me and my brother. You welcomed us into your family, into it’s safety, and warmth. What a blessing you were to our young lives. You knew how much we loved our brother and sister, and you wanted to keep us all together on summer trips, and holidays. So you did. You took a sledgehammer to the ex-in-law boundaries, and what love is “supposed” to be. You bulldozed those walls. You loved us. And Grandma, we loved you too. Thank you for the gift of your affection. It is timeless to me. Timeless to us all. Our definition of family is different because of you. I promise, I will pass this gift on to every child I meet.
Love, Your granddaughter
Grandma went to heaven, December 1st, 2008. Three days before her 91st birthday. She would have been 92 today. Happy Birthday, my sweet Grandma.
You are dearly missed, and dearly remembered.
Operation Christmas Child landed at Pantego Bible Church a few weeks ago. Proudly, Jason, Molly, Bridget, Sydney and I, all participated. Yes, that’s right, one box per person. One child per person.
Bridget picked a 14yr old boy. Don’t ask me why. I gave her the choices and this three year old did not even hesitate. She wanted a “big” boy. And we shopped for “big” boy’s box. Tell me that’s not adorable.
Molly wanted a girl her age, so she could easily pick things that she would like. She got lots of wonderful little gifts for her five year old girl. Her box was the only one we couldn’t quite close the lid on. Heh!
Sydney picked a 10-14 year old girl. Her box had the most room it. Huh. Heeeeey, she forgot like underwear and stuff. Don’t worry I added to it.
Jason picked a 5-9 year old boy. Yes, he got to gift vicariously. The little trucks, coloring book, and even a baseball. He took such care to pack it all in. He definitely spent the most time finding exactly what he wanted for his little boy.
I picked a little girl 2-4 yrs old (of course). I think I packed the most expensive thing out of all the boxes. I wedged an electronic phone. It talks, it beeps, it rings. It even like says the alphabet backwards – okay forwards. What I’m trying to say is….It was a super cool toy.
Jason didn’t realize I had stuck that in there until he was checking the receipt (and why it was so expensive). Oops. In my defense, I offered to pay him back, and he declined.
Five boxes later, we had our Christmas Children shopped for. ALL of us were involved in the shopping, packing, and dropping at the Church. It was wonderful. The stage was overflowing with boxes. They let us know on collection Sunday, over 1,190 boxes were received. Wow! That is a lot of far away children having a very Merry Christmas.
Our boxes.
The last weekend in November also began the Oakcrest Angel tree. Oakcrest is a family crisis Church in the hood of Kennedale Texas. It is nestled back behind a porn shop, a strip joint, and a liquor store. Surrounding the Church you are likely to find prostitutes, drug dealers, ex-cons, and addicts. And let’s not forget – their children.
If you’ve ever attended Oakcrest, you understand. It’s not about organized religion. It’s about a place where they have nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet they still rejoice. Their hearts rejoice, and their spirits soar in hope. Pure, undiluted hope – or at least – the pursuit of it.
Oakcrest has a clothing shop, and a soup kitchen on Monday nights. On that night, a hot meal is served by volunteers, paid for by monetary donations from the Monday night Church service (the attendees being mostly these same people). After the service, a box of groceries is handed out to needy families for the week. So they can eat. Let that sink in for a moment. So they can eat.
I found my humble gratitude at Oakcrest. I saw what little they grasped in their hands, and how happy they were to have it. I saw their struggles, and pain in their faces, yet they still shined. I saw crumpled bills gently placed in the offering plate. I saw true life in those that desire just to be, in a better place, than where they were before.
The children that surrounded them, that loved them, that needed them. Precious lives, so deserving of gifts. So deserving of kindness from a stranger. Much like Operation Christmas Child, but on a much smaller scale.
The Oakcrest Angel tree represents these children. They are the recipients of the humble hearted who adopt them. Last year, I worked that tree – tirelessly. No one was adopting. The economy went to the dumps, and there wasn’t money to spend. So many were just trying to give to their own children. They could not even consider another child.
I could see these children in my mind’s eye. I knew them. I had read their applications. I knew the size of family they came from. If they had a Dad in prison, or not. I hurt for them, and by gosh, I wanted them to have a Christmas. They deserved something. Unashamedly, I became a salesman in my Church lobby. Yeah.
“See that one there, well HE has a brother. His tag is over here. Could you do both?”
“I personally know this kid, he is fourteen. He lives in a single parent home. He has it rough. He is great kid. Can’t you just take him? Just this one?”
“Look some of these kids have on their wish/toy list COAT. Can’t you just adopt them, so they can have a coat for Christmas?”
It was HARD. Every week went this way until the last Sunday. We had ten Angels left. I could have just sat on the floor and cried. Instead, I sent out A MILLION texts, begging. After my mad texting, three were left. I took one more (I already had three), the group leader took one, and Jason (via text) took the last little Angel. He had already taken one the week before. My last plea worked.
What a relief! ALL were adopted. ALL would have Christmas. ALL of them, for just one night, could forget their worries, and problems. For one night, they could be merry. They could be children.
One year later, the Oakcrest family tree has been up in the Church lobby for two weeks. One more Sunday of adoptions left (next Sunday), and there were 11 tags left on the tree at 12 noon this past Sunday. At 1215pm, after second service, I watched my Mom snatch the last Oakcrest Angel tag off the tree. Oh my heart. Instead of down to the wire, an ENTIRE Sunday remains with no Angels left. There were even people still walking up to the tree looking for a tag, to be told – they are all adopted. We have no more.
Heartfelt hugs, and cheers all around.
You see the Sunday before (the 1st Sunday of the lobby tree), I pulled twenty tags – YES TWENTY – to send to my sister in Houston. Last year, she heard me talk about these kids, and these families. She remembered how I begged, pleaded, shopped, bagged and delivered (all with a BROKEN right hand). She remembered, and she saved up $1,000.00 to give twenty of these kids a Christmas.
Angel tags from the Oakcrest Tree for my sister
When you figure out which ones are the Angels, the kids, or the ones adopting them, please let me know. Because I have no idea.
I never imagined this weekend as a gift, but it truly was. A gift of delightful memories.
This weekend wasn’t just about Thanksgiving, it was about how much could Jason take and still love me? Mom staying with Jason and meeting the girls for the first time. Of course, she fell head over heels in love. And they took to her like stink on a dog because, well….she brought four furry children with her. FOUR.
Two tiny Papillons, Buddy the man, and Little Chevy who weighs an ounce? A Yorkie terror terrier named Lola. Poor thing, she has a disorder that requires medication every six hours to keep her from convulsing scarily. Yikes! And lastly, one FRED, a Shih-tzu boy, the biggest of the bunch, found wandering the highway one evening, that she promptly picked up in the Chuckwagon.
I call her vehicle the Chuckwagon, because it’s like the old commercial where the dogs are chasing the wagon with dog food, except it’s her van. The van stops and the dogs pile in. She takes them ALL home. I am not even kidding. My mom has 23 dogs (yes, she lives in the country).
I think half of them she has been trying to find homes for…for-EVER. But ya know? Her guidelines for a doggy home is VERY strict (which is good). Most don’t qualify, the rest don’t want grown up dogs. Then, MORE dogs come chasing down the Chuckwagon, which isn’t hard to catch. I think she ties meaty lamb chops to her bumper. Kidding! She doesn’t.
In all honesty, she rescues bloodhounds. She is part of an organization that will save a bloodhound (or part bloodhound) before they are euthanized at a shelter. They pick them up, put them in foster care until they can be adopted out. So, some of the dogs are fosters, others followed the Chuckwagon, and the rest happened to be on the right road, on the right day.
Whichever way you want to look at it, if you need a pet, please let me know. It really is a great service they do. They all have their shots and have been fixed. The fact that Mom only brought FOUR, ha, that’s a miracle. Lucky JASON!
Why did she stay at his house and not mine? Well, there was a little incident at my Mom’s house where Buddy the dog decided to get in Salem’s face, all chest bumping, and fake punching. She told him to get lost with her teeth and thirteen stitches later……yeeeeeaah. Not good.
Salem does NOT like little yappy, bossy Buddy dogs. Did I mention Buddy is eleven years old and has no teeth? Oh Salem, you are such a brute. Making her apologize would not have come CLOSE to making up for what happened to the little guy. In her defense, she only put her mouth on him for a second.
So, NO, I would not risk four doggy lives at my place with not only one big dog, but three. Not to mention, I have no extra bed. AND three grown ups share a very tiny bathroom already. One more might just push me over the edge. Ahhh!
Jason’s house it was. Extra bedroom, new mattress, cleaned up toy room, converted to guest bedroom (which Bridget kept asking me if I was going to sleep there). Uhh, no GRANDMA is “Gwanmah seep dere?” Yes, SHE is sleeping there. Isn’t that cool? (nods head, beams a smile) She only thought it was cool because Grandma has presents, and puppies.
Jason has a doggy run in his backyard, and LOTS, and LOTS of tile. Jason, sweetie, I know I can never EVER possibly make up for your most generous hospitality in the whole wide world. Ever to infinity times squared to the tenth power. But pssssst, you totally passed the TEST. Heh! You had no idea right?
Watching the little girls with my Mom and the dogs brought me great joy. Molly and Bridget LOVE the puppies. They love to hold them, pet them, cuddle them, and even drop them. Luckily they are close to the ground. Please don’t tell them they are not “really” puppies, especially old man Buddy. They were in heaven with all the puppy love.
Fred the Shih-tzu is one of my personal favorites. Cutest dog in the world. He is a love. I am not a little dog fan, but I would take him home in a second (Jason says no, hmph!). This weekend we carted around lots of dogs. Moving them back and forth from outside to in (even in the rain, right Jason?). Pictures galore were taken, adorable subjects, equals timeless shots.
Molly and Fred
Molly, Bridget, and Sydney – Can I just say this photo turns me to mush, awh!
Mom and girls walking together.
Then finally, we ended with ICE at the Gaylord Texan in Grapevine. What a finale! That place was incredible. The decorations, the art, the imagination of it all, just wraps you up, like a living present. Plus the ice slide, a grown up child’s dream – FLYING down the ice – no holds barred – Weeeeeeeee! It was glorious fun. If it wasn’t so crowded, I would have done it over and over til my fingers and nose froze off (totally worth it by the way).
Did I mention it was nine degrees? Before you can go in, they wrap you up in these big blue suits made for Eskimos. I guess they know Texan’s don’t have “real” winter coats, nor do we need them, although some people think we do when it goes from 110 degrees to 60 degrees, phhsss. Either way, we got a nifty warm sleeping bag garmet to wear in the ICE. Awesome.
Without further ado, timeless memories..
Jason, Mom, Me, Sydney, Kyle, Molly, and Bridget in front.
Jason and his two beauties.
Sydney and the girls.
One of my favorites, Bridget and my Mom.
Ice sculptures.
Molly and an ice lamb.
Me and Sydney. I swear that’s a camera bag under my coat, not like one of Mom’s small dogs or something. Heh!
It scares the wee out of me. Aggressive trampling crowd, elbows flying, sprints to endcaps, a tug of war over the last one, where you end up beaten bloody on the floor -crying Mama – while you rock back and forth sucking your thumb.
Um, no thanks! Okay, I’m sure that’s not what really happens, but I have no desire to find out otherwise. I’ll just lounge in my PJs, thankyouverymuch.
Yesterday was my first Thanksgiving with Jason’s family. His mother graciously welcomed me, my mother, and my daughter Sydney to the grand feast. The table was decorated with ceramic pumpkins, fancily folded napkins in rings, and beautiful china. The food was a foodie lover’s dream, so friggin’ delicious. She went above and beyond. That is one mother who LOVES with all her heart, and it spills over into all the hard work she puts into this Thanksgiving dinner for her family.
Even more beautiful was the children racing around, giggling, screeching, and constantly filling their bellies. I have decided my delight in children comes from a long line of family genes. Goes back as far as we know to teachers in the previous generations. Except it ended with me, because I loved travel more, but I digress.
I got a kick out of watching my mother, mingle, laugh, and enjoy the meelee. Most of the children in our family are grown, so this was a sight to see and reminisce. It was eerie how well she fit in. But I’m not surprised. Good people with the same values, and upbringings as ours, which is why I love them so much.
Black Friday kicks off the start of the countdown to Christmas. Black Friday is a shoppers dream. Black Friday reminds me of the time my car was broken into. I was running on the trails in Fort Worth. It was somewhere around six or seven miles. I get back to find a policeman next to my car which has a shattered drivers side window.
That wasn’t even the worst of it. My purse was in the car. Yes, I know - how dumb. I went to the back hatch opened it, popped the hidey hole, and voila there was my purse. Then I checked the middle console where my keys were (to the car, house, etc). Yep! Still there. Oh the cop was none to happy about that, but seriously – jogging with a big wad of keys? – or jogging with a very small remote to the car? Yeah, I chose remote – shamefully.
I was very lucky. I never parked there again, and at the time – I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to jog again. Husband 2 was a tyrant. He went ballistic over this infraction. Of course, it was my fault, and I was never to jog again, EVER. Insurance does not pay for that, so we had to fork over a few hundred dollars. Some Black Friday, huh? See why I don’t like them.
But the gift was that it could have been so much worse, being my purse was in the car, and keys. All I lost was a lousy tinted window. I have never parked there again, in fact, I started parking in a shopping center and walking to the trails. I never, ever took my purse with me. So, it all worked out, I got to keep running at my favorite park and learned some valuable lessons.
That brings me to what I promised myself, that I would begin a series of posts, from now until Christmas titled Timeless Gifts. You know what those are – things you can’t price – just revel in the majesty of the gift. Instances of kindness that blow you away, or movement of the season to make you really realize what Christmas is all about. An unbelievable act that has you falling to the floor, shouting “I’m not worthy!” Yeah, those kind.
I have a lot of those in my life. The car breakage is one. Can you imagine right before Christmas to have your I.D and bank card stolen? It would have made for a tough time, to deal with all that, and wonder if you’d ever be safe again – not to mention the fallout, and punishment from #2.
I, for one, was very grateful it wasn’t that bad and still am. My eyes were opened to the Timeless Gifts that happen all around. I hope I can share them with you. I hope I do the stories justice in the coming weeks. Until then….
Happy “black” Friday! I hope you get gifts galore at half the price.
Last night, sitting in the recliner with Jason’s oldest daughter, age five, playing Italian words off my 24/7 Italian app on iPhone. She repeated each word perfectly. She even rolled her R’s. I love this kid. She is awesome. I can’t wait to take her to Italy, for Italia-awesomeness.
Jason’s youngest daughter who is three, with no prompting, throwing her arms around me saying, “I wuv you.” And always, always pooching her lips up for a good-by kiss when I leave. A child’s love awesomeness.
Sydney cooking cheese enchiladas for her Spanish class fiesta. I sure didn’t teach her how to cook, but she just loves to. Breaking the cycle awesomeness.
My mom coming for Thanksgiving, FOR REAL. Awh-SOME! Oh, and bringing her famous cheese balls. Nummy food awesomeness.
Jason buying a new mattress, and a new nightstand for the guest bedroom in his house. Doing it for my mom when she visits for Thanksgiving. Taking her out for Sushi, putting up with her five dogs. Full throttle – oh my heart – awesomeness.
Still tucking Sydney in to bed, at age fifteen, shhh don’t tell her friends. That last kiss and hug is my nightly being a mommy AWESOME-ness.
Heart swelling up when I get a thank you call from Carter Bloodcare about my donation. I get to hear a blood recipient detail their story of how a blood donor saved their life. Tear jerking awesomeness.
Wearing Jason’s pajama pants in the winter while running around my house. Thinking of him in my pure comfy awesomeness.
Volunteering in the Church nursery, playing with three boys when in struts a two year old diva wearing these. Pink Texan boot kicking awesomeness.
Petunia flower pot in my driveway blooming in November. One-of- a- kind, never say die awesomeness.
A short blog post from me – hated by spell checker – bloggedy blog AWESOME-ness.
Have a most AWESOME, Thanksgiving Eve!
May all, and I do mean ALL, your foodie dreams come true.
Because Sunday I just couldn’t, and I really need it today – something healthy to reflect upon that is – how about you?
When eating a fruit, think of the person who planted the tree.
- Vietnamese saying
Expressing everyday gratitude
How often do you remember the people that have made little things possible for you? It’s easy to take our privileges for granted. Today, be more aware of your surroundings–everything from your shirt, house, food, and car–and who has made them possible for you. Who has made it possible for you to experience such wonderful things? One way to let someone know that you truly appreciate their efforts is to send them a quick note or return the kindness in your own way.
Brought to you by SPARKPEOPLE.
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Happy “short” week of the holiday! Can I thank the pilgrims? Thank you for making this holiday possible. Can I also thank all the turkeys out there? No, not your ex-boyfriends. The bird! No, not “Let’s all do the bird”, dance with Morris Day and the Time, or THE BIRDS by Alfred Hitchcock. I, totally, just dated myself.
I mean Turkey, and dressing served on platter. Yes, Yum! Happy Thanksgiving! I am so happy, and thankful – I swear it’s not just the extra days off (I think?).
This post is really about everyday grace, and not just the time of the year. My first thought that comes to mind is my mom. Hey, she wasn’t perfect by any means, but she PLAYED with us. She instilled manners, respect, morals, and fun. She is still fun, and she STILL plays. I love her! My delightful child-like mother, who encouraged independence, love of children, and animals, forever in my sentiment. Thanks mom for being you.
I am thankful for my health, and my limbs. Yes, that is what happens when you are raised by a handicap father. Suddenly, having healthy working legs is a BIG deal. How easy it is to take our mobility for granted. How quickly it can be taken from us.
Having and keeping a job in this economy. Can I just say, “WOW!” I never worried about my job during the Gulf War. I never worried when airlines stopped paying commissions to travel agencies, and the owners flipped their lids, and we had to start charging fees.
I was not even concerned when the internet arrived with Orbitz, and Travelocity, and the airlines following close behind, this book your own moxie. Why use a travel agent? But I knew not everyone would, especially larger corporate companies, which was my specialty. We were still needed.
Then, the devastating blow of 9/11 sucked the soul out of us, but not the heart. In spite of all that, NOTHING has compared to this last year in the travel industry. Nothing. So thank you, dear job, I am so grateful for you.
My sister, no we don’t live close. We are not close in age. I barely remember her living with us growing up. She was more of a little mommy than a sister. But oh, she is my livelihood. How I adore her, and look up to her, even now that I’m grown and can see, she actually has flaws. She will always be my big sister, and my best friend. God made us sisters, our hearts made us friends. That saying is so true with us.
My dear Jason, far and above, the most paramount man, I have ever met or known, besides my step dad. The thought this man puts into every single thing, a quiet responsible purpose of pursuit, with patience and utter endurance, just to offer the best of himself to those he loves.
Yet, he is always willing to listen to my flash bulbs of babbling brilliance. They pale in comparison to his “bigger” picture brain and burn out just as quickly in light of his deep embers. I can’t imagine a more fitting complement than what we are to each other.
Out of 9 MILLION people on Facebook, I found you, the one, and only you. How small I am compared to the grander illustration painted for both of us.
My daughter Sydney, you amaze and entertain me. Your quick wit, and non-typical teenage antics. By far you are more stylish than I ever could, would, or should be in this lifetime. Thank GOD, you know which shoes go with what. I will forever embarrass you with the wrong outfit just so you can say, “Mooooooommmmmmm, no.”
There are so many others, the scope of which encompasses to an eternity, and I hope you know who you are, because I don’t have enough words to attribute.
I hope I show my kindness to each of you in return. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I hope I express it, not just in words, or deeds, but in every hug, and in every email, text, or comment. I know where my appreciation comes from. It comes from YOU. It comes from your heart. It comes from where YOU came from. What a blessing you are. I am overjoyed to be in your life.
Graciously, I go into this wonderful week with you. Please share your gratitude with me. I’d love to hear it. And I know it will make you feel good (besides, I bet you have already typed it out, HA).
Or like the dead, your choice. Me, myself, and I, sleep in sweet peace AND like the dead. True story.
I’ve known about my – shall we call it? – sleeping ability. Yeah, that’s it, for a while now. Notice I did not call it a disability. To me it’s not. I go to sleep. I sleep like the dead. I wake up, go to work, or whatever. No insomnia, never had it. No slight noise jerking me awake at o’dark thirty.
Sweet sleep. Most times. Unless, I have nightmares. I have a standard recurring one. I watched Red Dawn so many times, that I have a dream where aliens encounter like the Russians. Their ships descend, and they rappel down on the terrified people.
It gets a little weird after that, because the safe ground we run to is a cemetery. The cemetery residents come alive, crawling from their graves sites, and pushing up more than daisies. Well then, NO where is safe. I guess that’s the moral of the dream. That, and don’t let your children watch Red Dawn, Night of the Living Dead, American Werewolf in London, or Alien movies at a young tender age. Mkay?
All that, and not to mention as a little girl, I would wake up at night convinced there were demons in the room with me (shudder). The only way I could go back to sleep was to sing the ONLY Christian song I knew (we didn’t go to Church), which was from choir, called My Lord. So you can see why I don’t wake up at night. I just don’t. I sleep. I learned at young tortured age -thanks mom and dad – to JUST sleep. No matter what, SLEEP.
As an adult, this is really awesome. I hear about so many people, (via Facebook) that have all these sleeping problems. Not so for me, I lay my head down and I am out. BLISS, pure bliss. Nothing can wake me up. In fact, I used to set three alarms in different parts of the room. Now, thank goodness, I only need one and it’s set to crickets. I assume crickets wake me up because it’s not the freeway sounds I’m used to.
The freeway is right out the back door. I don’t mean it’s out the back door, down the hill, through the meadow, and THEN there is the pesky, noisy highway. No. I mean out the back door, ten steps to the fence, over the fence is the access road, and RIGHT next to the access road, separated by an illegal exit from a traffic jam a grassy embankment, is the FREEWAY. The noisy truck roaring, trailers banging, tire wheel crunching freeway. It bothers me not a bit, because? I sleep dead sweet.
So get this, I wake up two nights ago, yeah I know, I actually do arouse (in my defense the window was wide open). I hear sirens, somewhere around 4am. They started off way in the distance and get louder, and louder, and louder – then rrrruppppt. They stop. Like right outside behind my place. Then I hear another siren, rrreeeow, rrreeeeow – closer and closer – errrooowwww, rruupppppt!
My thought was, ohmygosh, they are right outside! I should get up, go look, and see what is going on. I promptly fell back asleep. THEN, I wake up again (barely) my puppy is in her crate, shaking it. It’s LOUD in the room. Salem barks, and puppy Anna is making this sad little noise between a bark, a yelp, and whine. Merufferrrffft. Merufferrffft. It was the oddest thing I have ever heard. Of course I tell her to shut up, so I can go back to sleep – which I do. I’m convinced it was self-induced because – I’m just sayin’ – demons could have been around, YIKES.
Next day, I see my roommate John, my niece’s boyfriend, all excited he is like, “Hey, did you hear that last night?”
Suddenly I perk up, because I realize, I did hear something and it wasn’t just the sirens was it? (or demons?) I tell him about the sirens. He says, “Yeah, I heard them too. I could see emergency lights flashing through our window. I get up to go see, when it sounds like a PLANE is landing on top of the house.”
I’m like, “NO WAY!!!”. It hits me how Anna was shaking, and scared out of her mind, SHE wasn’t shaking the crate, what was passing over us was shaking the crate, and the whole house. I CAN’T BELIEVE I SLEPT THROUGH THAT.
John told me how freaked out he was – it was sooo loud – all the walls were vibrating. He went outside. Sure enough, several emergency vehicles, and a helicopter – ON THE FREEWAY. He checked the paper the next day but couldn’t find out what happened (obviously an accident).
But I know what really happened. I slept through a friggin’ helicopter practically landing on our roof. WOW.
Most of you know Jason is diabetic, type 1, takes the shots. AND it is possible (and has happened) that he could go low in his blood sugar (need insulin), have seizures in his sleep, and go into a coma. Yeah, a coma. Unless, say his wife (this happened too) wakes up, calls an ambulance, and saves his life.
So imagine, his reaction upon hearing this story, “What happens if we get married, and I go into a coma? Who is going to wake up, and call the ambulance?”
For once, my special sleeping ability IS a disability. FAIL. However, my only answer, because obviously – my track record is very bad – I have FAITH. I have faith, that I would wake up, or Salem would wake me up. I have to believe I would know. Just know, supernaturally.
If a ghost can use an alarm to wake me up, ha, I just got why it used an alarm, since that is the ONLY thing that would wake me up. Then by gosh, I can be woken up. I would sense danger…. I just know it. I believe that. I trust God. (let’s not even mention NOW with him living ALONE, what happens NOW? Same thing FAITH)
So, Jason, don’t worry my friend. Sleep sweet, if the times comes, I won’t let you down. (but if we get married, we should totally get another dog just in case) I’m really proud of myself, how I obscurely threw that in.
P.S. Sydney slept through it too. Yeah, if a tornado comes, we’re doomed.
I swear, I don’t have a single coherent thought. I feel my very nerve endings screaming in stress, but I’m not. I’m not worried about anything, but I should be, and I can’t think about them. What good would worrying do? I have choices, there is no worry. And see? That thought process is not very coherent, or incoherent?
I, quite often, don’t make sense. Just ask Jason. Wouldn’t that be fun? Wait, I can give you his answer, “Huh? What?”. I noticed last night, it’s his standard response, and now I’m doing it too. See, Jason and I constantly miscommunicate, it’s a source of humor now. *It has to be, otherwise we’d run screaming from the room*
I don’t hear well. He doesn’t hear well. This is going to work in our favor as we age, I just know it. As I became aware of this last night, when I said, “Huh?” before I actually listened to what he was saying (oh, that’s bad!). I realized, I heard what he said, as he was repeating it. Um. Oops. In my defense, I suspect he does the same thing to me, which is why we both do it. Got all that? Huh?
I started a different post this morning, but I didn’t want to finish it (right now). I stayed up late watching a movie with Jason, which explains my muddled thought process. I have the dreaded Aunt Flo visit any moment, any second. It’s not going to be pretty, at least the first day or two, until I put her in her place, stuff her trap with chocolate and pasta, and send her cranky butt packing.
Also, a few weeks ago, I found out from my yearly visit - yes you ladies know – THAT one. I have an elevated Thyroid. Uh, Yay? I’ve been expecting that for a while. My mom has Grave’s disease. She has osteoporosis as well. I am just a chip off the old block. Mom, loveyoumeanit..
At least now, I know why 40 degrees is comfortable, and anything else is blasted HOT. Turn on the A/C – where’s my face fan? Why are you wearing a coat? Yeah, that explains all that. And can I just apologize to my roommates and Sydney? I’m sorry, but the heater is not allowed on unless it’s below freezing outside. I repeat, I’m sorry.
I go see the Endocrinologist the first week of December to see what is going on, and if it matches what Dr. Peters believes (Graves). Sad thing is, an elevated Thyroid should make you lose weight. Not this chickie, but I do think I’d be TWICE as big if I didn’t have an elevated one. So, there’s a plus (and a pun, heh).
Thanksgiving is next week, a lot of people are making their - what I’m thankful for lists. My mom is talking about visiting, which would be amazing. Last time she mentioned that, she couldn’t come, honestly, I don’t want to get my hopes up, but that’d be the top of my thankful list! Oh yeah.
And, last night, totally unexpected, my favorite post was featured, on The Bold Life. Click on the link, or you can find it under the Joys of Writing tab, or you can go to Tess Marshall’s site, via My Favorite Blogs, over there somewhere —————> or even ^ up there, in What I’m reading tab, which is her book, Flying by the Seat of my Soul, one of the many books I’m reading. It is AWESOME. It means so much to me that she would share my link on her site.
The post link is the story of my step dad who died, August 2008. A Father’s Love. The mention of this story, this time of the month especially, just brings on the waterworks. He was my safety net. Without him, I always feel – I’m walking the tightrope – on my own. There is no net, no crash pad, no rescue, just vacant free-falling to the floor. In other words, I MISS him, sooo much.
But, I am not alone. Jason is the strongest, most vigilant, and loyal sponsor (thanks, Wilma) I have ever had (besides God). He is completely reliable, 100%. If I was a needy person, he’d be there for me. I’m not, at least, I try not to be (maybe to a fault). I don’t need saving or rescuing (the old me did, but didn’t know it). I guess it was just the comfort of my step dad being there, a back up, an extra pair of batteries, a just in case.
Obviously, I am very capable. I have lived on my own since age 17. Paid my own bills, supported a family, and I didn’t even rely on child support. There were some years, I didn’t even GET child support, so I couldn’t rely on it. Don’t mistake that for not appreciating it. I do appreciate it. It helps greatly, but it’s not necessary for my survival. I don’t think I could be that dependent, nor would I want to be (prideful much?).
As you can see, this is not a normal post for me. I have a lot of things on my mind. As joyful as the holidays are, they can be hard for me. I had an ectopic pregnancy one Thanksgiving, surgery that December. The last time I saw my grandmother alive was last Thanksgiving. This is my second Thanksgiving without my step dad. As thankful as I am, I can’t help but remember.
In the works, I have some great life stories I’m working on…Life with a broken right hand amidst, a downward spiral of the economy (why yes, I am right handed, not to mention that I type for a living). All reservations are booked by computer, air, car, hotel – all – have to be typed in. It’s too good not to blog about it. The Survival.
Another story, at Christmas 2007, about a very good friend of mine and what her family did for me and Sydney. I will never forget it. You will be astounded by the Christmas spirit that visited us.
So can we all take a big deep breath? (iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnn oooooooooooouuuut) Ahhhh, that’s better (yes, Peggy, I need to get to Yoga class). Thank YOU, if you are reading this, if you comment. I appreciate you more than you know. I don’t have any immediate family members that read my blog (except my daughter sometimes, hi sweetie, I love you! and Jason because I make him- Did you read my blog yet? Did you? How about now?).
So you, YES YOU, dear, kind, precious reader. Give yourself a hug and smile, from me (if you’re there-I can’t see through this box). Words can not convey what you mean, I know there are so many talented, and creative blogs out there. That you chose to read mine is humbling beyond measure. (wow, that kinda sounded like an airline)
Jason had the kids this weekend, but I didn’t get to see them until Sunday.
We get back from Church, then they arrive from Church with their Grandma (Jason’s Mom), and proceed to attack Jason.
Grabbing his legs, trying to pull him down, giggling madly, evil gleams in their beady innocent eyes. Scary, I tell you and they just came from CHURCH. Well, along with Sunday school snacks, which could include large doses of popcorn, skittles, and possibly liquid sugar shots? Yeah, I think that’s what it was.
Sydney was at home, she wasn’t able to go to Church, since she went to her boyfriends races the night before, and they ended late. I found out via Facebook she had a terrible night and possibly her boyfriend was cheating on her? What?!?! Her Dad even called me, once he got her update, to find out what was going on.
Oh my, is this how we parent? Of course back in my parents day, they had no CLUE what was going on. Unless you count the wailing sounds from my room, or Air Supply blaring from the speakers. I am grateful for Facebook and Twitter – I get to keep in touch with my teen. I actually know what’s going on or when something is going on (well at least more so).
I decide to go get her (right away) and immediately take her for chocolate, and guy bashing, aka The Cure.
The kids were so busy playing, they didn’t want to pack into the car again. J’s oldest wanted to stay home and kill Dad play with Dad. The plan was..I would go get Sydney and we would eat lunch, trash the no good cheater catch up, polish off desert and be good as new to reunite with everyone.
I had my keys in hand, and was saying good-bye, when I feel a tug at my pants. I look down to see the Cheshire kid. You know the one? Face of an angel, twinkling eyes, playful charming smile….yeah that one….the one that gets you.
J’s youngest, Bridget
Bridget: I go wit choo. (cocks head smiling sweetly)
Me: You want to go with me? (I point to myself, look around at J in incredulous wonder – J shrugs)
Bridget: Yesth, I go wit CHOO. (pokes me with her little pudgy finger)
Me: Ooookay. (still looking for help, getting none)
Don’t get me wrong, she asks to go with me all the time – it just usually doesn’t work out. Plus, she can get moody when she is hungry or tired (it’s so cute, it’s just like Jason). We had talked about doing separate things with the kids, so he could have some one on one time with each of them. This seemed as good a time as any. It’s just so strange to see her away from her older sister Molly. With them only two years apart, they are very close, they even sleep in the same room. Plus, she had never left alone with me. She is a Daddy’s girl through and through.
Alrighty then, I grab her car seat and off we go to get Sydney. She is happy, beaming her mega-watt charm of a smile. I end up taking them both to a restaurant. She was so good. Never cried, wasn’t bored, picked out exactly what she wanted to eat, and ate it. No fuss at all. I love this kid!
I had chicken nuggets, but I didn’t like the sauce, so I asked for gravy. I get my gravy and the Cheshire kid promptly dips her fries in it. I was shocked! I said, “Did you just dip your fry in MY GRAVY?” I give her the scary eye.
An eruption of delighted giggles burst forth, not scared at all, as she continued to dip every fry, cackling gleefully each joust. I immediately picked up the phone and text Jason. My text read:
Your daughter is country! She is dipping her fries in my gravy.
Oh my sweet Lord, the Cheshire kid is sucking me in. She likes gravy with her fries, just like a good ole girl from Oklahoma. We finish with dessert and come to find out, Sydney’s boyfriend thing? False alarm. Something about a fortune cookie on Sorority girls, huh? Whatever THAT means. Heh!
Back we go hand in hand to the car, Sydney helps belt her in. She hasn’t even asked about Daddy, little stink. She finally does in the car. We head back with her all grins and charming endearment.
Later that afternoon, as Sydney and I are preparing to leave, after we shopped at Wal-Mart for FIVE Operation Christmas Child boxes, with two still hyper banshees kids. THEN, stuffed them to the gills packed all of them. If that wasn’t a work out, I don’t know what is.
Here she came, the Cheshire kid, with those big eyes, and that sweet little face turned up to me, arms reaching.
Bridget: I go wit choo.
Me: But baby, I’m going home. (lifting her into my arms)
Bridget: I not Baby! I Bridget! I go WIT choo.
Me: You want to come home with me? Where will you sleep? With Sydney or me?
Bridget: Swedney.
Me: What about the closet? I can string you a hammock in the closet and you can live there.
She nods.
Bridget: I go wit choo. (lays her silky head on my shoulder)
That little Cheshire kid. I’d take her home in a heartbeat. She has charmed me out of my mind, take a three year old home with me? What? It’s like I’m hypnotized! Nodding my head, picking her up. Goodness gracious!
Me: One day, you can come visit me at my house, OK?
Bridget: Ochay.
Why do I get the feeling she is not going to forget that promise? What in the world am I getting myself into?
Stop living life for what’s around the corner and start enjoying the walk down the street.
- Grant L. Miller, motivational guru
Enjoying the road to accomplishment
It’s possible to be a little too focused. With blinders on, it becomes easy to completely live in our vision of where we will be in the future, while ignoring the improvements that we have made in the present. The road to a healthy lifestyle is a long trip. While it’s very important to realize what we are shooting for, we also need to make sure that we keep our heads in the present to enjoy the progress we’ve made. If your goal is to lose weight, instead of waiting to celebrate until you lose it all, enjoy today’s small victories and take advantage of your improved health now. This approach serves as motivation for any aspiration in life. Set ambitious goals and enjoy the road to accomplishing those goals, because life might pass you by if you are always planning for tomorrow without ever seeing today.
One of the first things that come to mind when I read this, is all the things you put off, or miss out on due to weight issues. My example, Laugh Fest at the Parks Mall - for The Levity Project, Katie has actually posted our video under the videos tab on her website. How cool is that? Now, I was hesitant about being “filmed”. The camera adds ten pounds, I wasn’t wearing black, I hadn’t lost the TWENTY pounds – and had done nothing to try and lose it. Me self-conscious? Heck yah!
Obviously, We did it anyway. What it came down to was this, if I waited until I looked “perfect”. For one, it’d be never. HA. For two, I would have missed out on participating in this event. I wouldn’t have lived in the present. I would have planned a future event based on something that might happen – I could have missed it.
And you know what? I treasure that day. I treasure laughing with Sydney. I treasure our participation with the Chicago laugh flash project group at the same time. I am thrilled we did it. We will never have November 7, 2009 – 12 Noon again. Sydney will never be fifteen again, this year is it. For her to be fifteen – pretty amazing.
One thing I never did, was wish her older than she was. Some relatives would, they would want her to be a certain age, to do grown up things with her. They couldn’t wait til she was bigger. Every new age, it would be an older age they would pine for. I would nod quietly, but inside I celebrated that instant, and the milestone she was at. Maybe because, I couldn’t have any more, and that made me more aware of the here and now. I couldn’t help but think, you are missing it.
Could it be, this span of your life, to you, is just a meaningless phase until you get to the next big thing?
Friends, you are missing it.
The last thing that comes to mind is this………
When I moved to Dallas, from a small town of 20,000 (actually I lived outside of that town), so it was even smaller. Think rural, no paved driveways - not even a traffic light. I could not wait to get to the big city. Who needed a small town? Everyone knew your business, they didn’t have any major restaurants (back then). There was only one movie theater. We had Wal-Mart, but no mall, the list goes on and on.
Back then, the country? The worst place ever. We couldn’t even get cable when it first came out. It was a year before we could. I missed out on all those MTV video premiers. In my mind, the quicker I got out, the better.
And I did, at the tender age of seventeen. When did something change? Probably when Sydney was born. Suddenly the city lost its charm, and I worried my little girl would be swallowed up by it. I questioned myself, why did I leave the small town? How in the world could I raise my child in the city? What was I thinking? Panic and regret, and you know, I was missing it. I was missing out on life in the present.
Fact is, Sydney is a city girl. The country makes her go, “Ewww!” This is where I chose to live, and this is where I make the best of it. I think I mentioned, I don’t do unhappy, and my longing? Just didn’t suit me. This was it.
It turned out wonderfully. Sydney has done great in the city. I have no clue why I worried. She is smart, well-adjusted and thrilled to live here. (well, okay, it’s not FAIR she is not an OU fan, but I digress)
I do love it here. Do I miss the small town I was raised in? Yeah. I realize all the benefits a small town has to offer. All the things I did as a child, that I wanted her to do, and have memories of. But why miss out on all the opportunities around me? And there is a lot – museums, zoos, gardens. I found the greatness in it all. New memories, new traditions.
Time is zipping by, I’m not getting younger (big surprise, I know). I am celebrating with joy. Today will never come again. I’m not going to let anything hold me back, not my weight, not what people think, not my regrets, not my mistakes – Nothing. I’m taking hold of today and enjoying it.
What victory are you going to take hold of today? What regret are you going to put in your past for good? What is holding you back from enjoying this instant? Don’t miss the journey, don’t let life pass you by, accomplish, thrive, and live.
For all you gamers out there who play Rock Band on PS3 or any other console.
Meet Ava, actually it’s ava, she doesn’t punctuate. She doesn’t! ava is one of my alter egos. She is most like me, except she plays drums in a band called The Stonecold Steve Austins. Yeah. She didn’t make the name up, for one it’s punctuated, for two it’s a guy name, and for three they are not wrestlers. Duh.
The band consists of the leader who is Steve Austin plays guitar. The singer Daisy, blonde hair, zebra pants, with a cute pink halter top (perfect 15yr old rendition). She’s all that. Then the band’s bass player is Jolt, soap star looking blonde with a big tattoo on his chest. The singer really digs Jolt.(Jolt, 16yrs old been dating Daisy over a year) He plays with his shirt off.
Before ava joined the band, the previous drummer was named Jade. Long black hair in dreads, pale skin, big green eyes with a nose piercing. She wore a leather jacket with a hot pink bikini top sporting leather pants. Jade ROCKED. She had a silver drum set. Seriously! She was crazy cool (and sooo unlike me).
See, Jade felt out of place. Everyone else in the band was themselves, or most like themselves. So she left – promising to return and jam again when the mood so strikes – and ava joined. Daisy thought ava looked fat and she can’t stand the fact that she wears a pink top with jeans, and the jeans have a red belt, that doesn’t match. What-evah!
Thing is, whether it’s Jade or ava, neither drummer has ever gotten a 100%, even on EASY. It’s an elusive feat for both of them. And not because of practice either, when Jade started she barely made it through a song without failing out. She just banged away until the song ended if she couldn’t catch the beat. Believe me sometimes her beat was waaaay off.
ava comes along with much more experience, but still misses the mark on 100%, every time. She has made a promise to herself, as soon as she peaks the score, and snatches that 100%. It’s medium all they way baby!
Last night’s JAM, NOT resulting in 100% – again.
Truly, I wasn’t a gamer until I met Jason. I had no idea what I was missing. It is a fun family activity, that everyone can enjoy. It’s also a great way to enjoy music. We don’t just have Rock songs, we have country, Christian rock, and metal. There is a variety. My favorite right now is Kings of Leon.
I don’t let it get me down that I can’t quite attain the 100 score. I just keep playing with all my heart. I keep trying. I love this game. I’ll get there eventually. In the meantime…..I WANNA ROCK!
It is the final chapter of a long, drawn out, wanttorunawayandhide saga.
And honestly, I really debated about writing this at all, but it was such a significant part of my day and psyche, how could I not. I think getting it out, therapeutic for me, and maybe some of you can relate.
You see yesterday, I went to a lawyer. Now, I am not fond of visiting lawyers, doctors, or dentists. Well, actually I LOVE my dentist. Goodlookin’ blonde Norweigan, sweet and kind, yes I love him but not the stuff they do to my teeth – OW. Generally, don’t like the visit itself. I have actually gotten better about these kinds of “visits”, as I get older and things start falling apart I’m too old to care anymore, but I digress.
Yesterday, off I go, nerves wrecked – lawyer – blech. Now let me just tell you, I have put this off for TWO and HALF years. Yup. Just couldn’t deal with it. Why can I today? I am not sure. I think because if Jason and I take that step forward, I want to enter into our covenant completely free of my past. He deserves that. I deserve that.
So this visit is the final nail in the coffin, uhh, I mean the end of it. It’s a bankruptcy lawyer. Husband number two either refused to work, or when he worked he didn’t make ANY money, and I mean ANY. Oh, there were always excuses……bad day…..bad client….bad boss….bad hours…..the list goes on and on.
Point is supporting him, a daughter, two car payments, a house payment and ALL the bills (not to mention his penchant for things) on ONE measly travel agent salary just does not work without accumulating enormous debt. Enormous.
My credit was perfect when I met him, no bills, everything was paid off. I lived in a cheap two bedroom apartment that I loved. It was in a country town outside the city, you could actually SEE stars out there. It was great. How quickly that can unravel when the man you marry refuses to be so low as to live in an old apartment. And the country? Not for this city boy.
I am not blaming ALL the bills on him. Truth is I made the money, I could have put my foot down. I could have REFUSED things that he wanted. Honestly, I was just trying to keep the peace, he cycled so rapidly. His good days so few. He promised so many things and I believed some of those in errant….
Llike he would succeed at his commission paying job, like when we bought a house I couldn’t afford on my own that he would actually help, which he promised to do, like he SWORE he would, like he got really pissed at me for questioning him about.
I could go on and on, but seriously, WHY? It’s over and done, divorced finalized October 2007. I can cry, complain, and stress but it doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t help me by dwelling on it. I have LEARNED from this. These are the things that make you stronger, tougher, smarter.
I learned to never, ever take good credit for granted. I’ve learned someone really has to back up their words with actions, or it’s no dice. I’ve determined so much, but I couldn’t FACE that last thing. Bankruptcy.
Maybe you don’t think I need bankruptcy, it’s just some credit card bills? Heck, do credit counseling! Let tell you, if it were that easy I would, but this man refused to put the house we I bought up for sale. It was one of two in the whole neighborhood with a game room. Plus, we had a nice upgrade, berber carpet throughout. It was unique. It would have sold.
Instead, he squatted lived there six months until he was evicted by foreclosure. The house SOLD within a MONTH of being back on the market (just like I thought). I had told him I’d give him the profit, he could have had a fresh start with money. Siiiiiigh.
If that were the only issue fine, foreclosure is not that bad, believe it or not. But the car he drove was in both our names. The car he never paid for, the one I paid for, so he didn’t pay that either, obviously since he never paid anything. It took them a year and a half to repossess it. A year and a half, he dodged them to keep driving that car for free.
They sent me a bill for $17,000 dollars. GULP.
My only choice is/was/and will be bankruptcy. To start over, to re-build, to finally have closure.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought, this happens in a lot of divorces. Not everyone has an amicable one where people actual work together. Some just get screwed, badly. In fact, most do.
I prayed a lot yesterday. I took my lumps. I faced my fears. I didn’t want this hanging over me anymore. It was finally time.
Plus, the ONE credit card I still had ($300 limit), I mainly used it for online purchases (to not risk my bank card). Well, they canceled me. I BURNED with shame of it. I had PAID that card off many times, never missed a payment. I can’t blame them though, they checked my rancid credit report. It reeks.
As anguished as I felt driving to that lawyers office (crying), I felt a spark of hope. Hope for my future, hope for a new start, hope for a final conclusion.
When I left that lawyers office, hope was on fire – blazing. I wanted to feel bad about the cost. I would be paying for this a loooong time, but not even that could bother me. My festive celebration could not be squashed, I did it!
The Final Chapter? Yeah, it’s a bankruptcy chapter. The end.
Maybe you have something in your past, holding you back from moving forward, the weight is heavy on your shoulders. Let it go. Put it down. As Jason’s five year old would say, “Be brave”. Then finally, walk away. The last page has been written. It’s time to start a new book.
I’ve been wearing contacts since I was ten years old. Yes, I know! What were my parents thinking? Surely I lost them. Why yes I did, thankyouverymuch, luckily my smart step dad took out insurance.
I had contacts back in the days of using enzyme cleaner in distilled water. Did I just date myself? You had four different solutions. A soaking solution, a rinsing solution, and a cleaning solution. Then the distilled water with enzyme tablets. You had to have a near science degree just to WEAR contacts back then. At least they were soft contacts, those hard ones always looked painful.
Fast forward to today, my gosh, look at all the available contact options. You can get three month wear, six month wear, bi-weekly wear, colored, even bi-focal contacts. Seriously! They have come a long way. I can’t wear the extended wear. I tried and my eyes watered, constantly. It was 3-D blurred vision – I was not happy.
“Why?” asked the doctor your eyes are getting MORE oxygen with these. Um, gee doc, I don’t know. Apparently, I see better with oxygen deprived eyes. Go ahead smother them!
They put me back in the same bi-weekly lenses I had been wearing for many years, until this last visit. This doctor based on medical issues [cough] allergies [cough] recommended daily wear contacts. You wear them ONE day and toss them. A fresh new pair every day for those with dry allergy ridden eyes.
Now, I struggled a bit with the whole waste thing, how much more trash was I creating? Was I killing the planet? How lond did they take to decompose? They are not recyclable, nor environmental friendly. In the end, I tried them for seven days – comfort – blessed comfort – won out.
For the first time in 27 years, my contacts were cozy. My eyes were content. Not just day one or two, but all day even late into the night. To a long time contact wearer (and nightowl), that is incredible. They cost a bit more but I don’t have to buy solution either. The pleasant wearing experience was worth every penny (and more).
I have used 1-800-CONTACTS for a quite a while. They are very convenient, not to mention top notch customer service. I was in such desperate need of contacts after my eye appointment in May, I went online Saturday night to order them. Thing is, I kinda forgot the brand. No worries, there were only TWO daily wear lenses. I picked the one I thought it was. I figured they’d verify with the office and get the right one anyhow (forgetting it was Sunday the next day and the office was closed).
The contacts arrived within the week, oh happy day, I HATE wearing glasses. I can’t see. I never feel awake. I had gotten so irritated that week, I had dug out an OLD, OLD pair of contacts to wear. Yuk! Major eye disturbance.
So here they were, fresh and brand new, I immediately put my lenses in…..and couldn’t SEE a thing! I thought, maybe I got a bad lens. I tried another pair, STILL couldn’t see. Ahhhh!
I was bummed. I went to work wearing glasses and called them. As I’m speaking to a rep, I notice the box is + not – like my prescription. Ooops. Yeah, my bad. I tell them, it’s the wrong prescription, I admit it’s my fault. They tell me according to the doctor’s office it’s the wrong brand too. Wow.
Not only do they fix it and ship it right away, they do not even charge me the extra money for the different brand which was more expensive. AND they didn’t laugh at me for my major flub! (wearing contacts for 27 years? HA)
Three months later, it came time to re-order again. I jump online, no problems. My prescription is there and verified, no chance of getting it wrong. I actually ordered six months worth of contacts, because you know, time flies.
The box came yesterday and I open it right up, CONTACTS! My CONTACTS are here. Here is what I find……
Inside the box.
One of the boxes.
What’s left inside the box after the boxes are removed.
83 contacts
Now either someone had a really bad day in shipping and took it out on a mean ole box of contacts, or the contact boxes had some major issues with each other when the box closed. *You’re in my space. Move over. Get your elbow off me. Stop wheezing! Are you looking at me? You want some of this. Why I outta…*
One box was completely ripped open – all the contacts broken apart and loose. Two other boxes were opened but not spilling contacts, the third box looked a little inflated but was fine, not opened anyway. I would have been okay if they were all there, but no, one box was short seven contacts. I had to call them and let them know. What a trip! (heh, literally!)
Apparently, those seven escaped during shipping or were kicked out of box club for talking about box club. Or maybe the shipping guy had a problem with them. You seven? You’re OUTTA here! What happens in the box stays in the box….no questions, right?
As odd as it sounds, sometimes our logical minds can hold us back. Have you ever wanted to attempt a new career, run a marathon, or start your own business? Our brains might scream at us that it is safer to do what has been tried and true in the past, but don’t let the fear of the unknown stop you! We all spend a lot of time worrying and little time examining the calling of our own hearts. What are you passionate about? Is there a way that you can honor these feelings in a responsible way? Trying new things can be terrifying, but following our passions can make us feel alive and become some of our most memorable moments in life. The thrill of love, the depths of grief, and the joys of a new career…all would be impossible without passion.
Brought to you by Sparkpeople.
* * *
First off, my apologies, this wasn’t posted on Sunday. I woke up at three am Sunday morning very, very ill. I am rarely ill. I don’t know if it was a bug or if I just had too much chili at the annual chili cook-off.
All I know, is when I have trouble getting Pepto down the ole gullet AND am fearful it won’t stay down. It’s not a good thing. I wasn’t quite right all day yesterday. I started feeling a tiny bit better in the evening.
This morning I feel fine, whoo-hoo!
As for the reflection, I have mostly been a heart follower my whole life. I moved to a ginormous city (alone) at seventeen. Moved up the ladder at the company I began working for within six months. After a terrible loss in our family, I was brave enough to try and have another baby which resulted in Sydney.
My whole life, my heart has led most of the way and I am glad of it. There have been many instances where my mind took over. Doubt dominated the decision. I suffered needlessly because of it. Fear is a very funny thing, once it takes hold, it is very hard to shake.
NaNoWriMo would be most recent worry. My mind tells me I can’t do it, my heart says the story must be told. I hope by the time I get done examining it, the thirty days is not up.
My other head vs. heart battle is my current relationship. My heart loves Jason heart and soul with no doubt at all. My head tells me, being a step mom and trying to work with their mother, would be a very tough road. Don’t get me wrong, I love those children with ALL my heart, and if that’s all there was to it, I’d be in good shape.
The safer route? Definitely staying in my world, the one I know without a doubt, one primarily with me and Sydney. Maybe that one seems more in my control, definitely less danger. The heart route? Jason and the girls, a lifting and turning of a beautiful dance that might be hard to learn the steps, but so beautiful and rewarding when complete.
The unknown, a great abyss of doubt and wonder. The known, a river that flows gently with no dips or turns. The mind is certainly easier to tame doing what you know and staying safe. The heart is a little riskier, but with a greater achievement, a greater wealth of wild exaltation.
What is your battle today? Do you recognize your struggles? Will your passion win? Or your logic?
First let me explain where this idea comes from. It comes from Katie of THE LEVITY PROJECT.
Here is what her post said,
On November 7th, at 12:00 CT, will you laugh in a public place with us? Grab a friend, your iPOD, a good book and sit somewhere in a public place and laugh for 5 minutes. Just start by saying “Ha Ha Ha” or humming ha ha ha to yourself. Then keep getting louder and louder. I like to envision a bubble of laughter in my belly and chuckle quietly as I imagine it rising up in me through my chest, throat and out through my mouth. By the time it escapes my mouth, I let out a big laugh in celebration. Do this for 5 minutes (it will feel like a workout!).
That is all I am asking you to do. Go somewhere in public and laugh. And then, watch what happens around you. Sure, there will be the people that look at you oddly and like you may have a problem. But there will also be the people that look you in the eyes and start to smile. And even the few that start to laugh with you. After 5 minutes, notice how you feel. Do you feel a little lighter? Do you feel a like the outlook for the day is brighter? Enjoy making the ripple effect in the world around you.
I thought this was a great idea and decided to take part. The more laughter the better. I recruited my daughter Sydney to laugh with me, trust me, she has the BEST laugh. Since this was decided last minute, my other recruits did not have the ability to join us. I’m sure they will want to have some WICKED fun with us next time.
I decided to go to The Parks Mall in Arlington. It’s probably the most crowded place I know. Jason opted to film the event. Thank goodness too! His height and steady hand was spectacular!
I have to admit, you feel a bit like a mad hatter, walking around laughing your head off. But it’s also very freeing. Just let go, laugh, and have a ball.
Without further ado, here is how it turned out.
Angelia: I think it turned out great! We had a lot of funny looks but some people smiled and waved.
Sydney: It was great seeing their faces. They couldn’t figure out what we were doing.
Angelia: I think my favorite part was knowing I was participating in an event going on in other parts of United States. We were all spreading laughter together.
Sydney: My favorite part was Santa waving and pointing – I mean smiling.
Angelia: I will definitely do it again. Maybe wear a smiley face shirt, hold a sign, or wear a silly hat. It was great fun!
Sydney: I’ll do it again, just to see everyone’s surprise. I wonder what we will come up with next, and if the cops will shut us down again. HA!
Carry laughter with you wherever you go. ~Hugh Sidey
Merry SITSmas!
December 7, 2009 by Angelia
This post is for all the SITS girls. The Secret is in the Sauce is a comment blog recognition support group. It’s a great way to find new blogs, and meet other bloggers. I urge you to check them out. Wishing you and yours, a very Merry Christmas. Hug your family tight and cherish those precious memories. You never know when they might be gone. Love and miss you Daddy-O, Grandma, and Poppy Carl. Forever in our hearts.
Bridget, Jason’s youngest, hoping to take a new friend home from ICE.
Molly, Jason’s oldest, in front of the Texas Christmas tree. Gaylord Texan in Grapevine, after ICE.
Salem about 7 years ago, but she is still my puppy.
Sydney and Salem, 2002
Salem’s first Christmas, 2002
Molly and Bridget trimming the tree at Dad’s house this year. Notice the placement of the ornaments.
Sydney and Kyle, Christmas 2009.
Molly and Bridget, Christmas 2009 at the Gaylord Texan. I love this pic!
Me and Sydney, Christmas 2007
Me and Sydney, Christmas 2008
Due to technical difficulties (DARN iPHONE wordpress app), I lost most of this post and had to redo it. If the pictures look different that is why.
Posted in In my heart forever & ever, In the lives of children, LOVE | Tagged Christmas, comment, Hello, LOVE, SITS | 52 Comments »